Keeping Close
by A Ginger
Summary: Set in season 5, episode 3. Dean and Cas are working as a team, and their constant, close proximity is making them both a little too aware of each other. Dean battles with his attraction and Cas saves the day. Slash fiction!
1. A Wonder

_**A/N: (fic takes place just after episode 503: Free To Be You And Me)**_

_**Hello there! First story on this new account – I'm excited! This is by no means my first slash fic, so no need to worry about shoddy excuses on my part. If this story sucks, no need to cut me some slack. Tar and feather me if it's not to your liking. If you do happen to enjoy this, then yay! This is by far my favorite piece I've written so far for this pairing. Hope you like it! Please review either way :D**_

**Chapter One: A Wonder**

This was not the angel's first time on Earth. He had, of course, touched down before, many decades ago, in the body of a vessel with the purpose of protecting a charge. After so many centuries, he knew full well that humans were nothing but the combination of given traits that saw little to no variation. Never before, however, had Castiel encountered a human being so complex as the man called Dean Winchester. In his eons of experience observing and occasionally interacting with the human race, he hadn't met a man so prone to violent mood swings, unexplainable bouts of laughter at seemingly mundane things, or surges of dumbfounding protection of all the things that he held dear. Dean was truly a loyal man, that was certain, but he did come with his peculiarities.

The biggest trait that set Dean apart from his fellows, Castiel thought, was his appetite. Now that Dean and his brother Sam had for the time being parted ways, Castiel was left alone quite often with the elder Winchester. This time offered many acute observations that the angel had before been unable to make.

His first observation: Dean Winchester drank a lot of beer.

"Isn't it against your rules to drive while consuming alcohol?" said Castiel. He looked over at Dean in the claustrophobic darkness of the Imapla and watched the man once again lift the neck of a dark brown bottle to his lips.

Swallowing, Dean chuckled with the half-lifted smirk that he had so well perfected after countless executions. "Don't you worry about 'our' rules, alright? I've got it handled." He shoved the bottle suddenly into Castiel's unsuspecting hand and began fiddling with the car's radio, muttering under his breath about radio stations not knowing the definition of good music anymore.

The angel looked down at the three-fourths empty beer bottle. An acrid, bitter scent was wafting up from the lip of it, and mingled in was the slightest whiff of Dean's natural aroma. Castiel brought the bottle a little closer and let his heightened senses play with the smell of the beer. If the stuff tasted like it smelled, it couldn't be too appetizing.

"Hey now, angel-boy," Dean said, snatching back his drink, "hands off. I need this if you expect me to stay awake for the drive to… Where is it we're going again?"

"Oakland County," said Castiel. "It would be much faster if you had let me use my—"

"No, no," Dean cut across quickly. "I already told you, Cas, no more funky angel teleporting. The ramifications are _not_ worth it." Castiel had already brought up his hand as if he were going to touch Dean's forehead and bring them directly to the site of their next obligation.

"As you wish," said a resigned Castiel. He settled his hands in his lap and looked placidly out through the front window. From the corner of his eye he watched Dean drain the rest of his beer and set it in the back seat where two empty bottles were already rolling about. It was common habit for Dean to drink, even more so since Sam had left. Castiel had never mentioned it before, but he saw a noticeable change in Dean's already peculiar personality whenever alcohol was brought into the picture. Sometimes his mood changed for the better, and sometimes it took a downturn. Human emotion was not a well-known subject for Castiel, but he knew enough about it to see the subtle alterations in his charge's actions.

By the way that Dean was singing some classic rock song at a growing volume, Castiel felt it safe to assume that tonight his drinking would not turn him into anything bitter or irate (at least, not _too_ irate). Even though Dean wouldn't admit it, the absence of his brother was a physical thing that was almost like the loss of a limb. The anxiety over Sam's well-being pressed on Dean's mind with every added minute in which Castiel rode shot-gun instead of Sam. There was some insistence from Dean that he was happy to be on his own, but Castiel knew better than to believe him. Although he was emotionally blank and fairly ignorant of human culture, Castiel knew the difference between truth and lies.

After another hour of driving, Dean pulled into the parking lot of a roadside motel and made it clear that he wasn't driving another foot until he'd had his minimum of four hours' sleep.

"What should I do until you are done sleeping?" said Castiel. He watched Dean pull his duffle bag from the trunk and head for the main office of the motel.

"I don't care," said Dean over his shoulder. "Aren't you supposed to be looking for God, anyhow?" He stopped, awaiting Castiel's response.

The angel drew up close behind Dean in several long steps. "The trail has gone cold. I am taking a few days to collect my thoughts and devise a new course of action."

Dean turned and nearly fell backwards at the discovery of how close Castiel had become. 'Personal space' was a lesson taught and failed many times over.

"Peachy," Dean said. "So why are you still playing 'Angel in the Outfield?' Don't you have anything better you could be doing?"

Castiel thought for a moment, taking the question into deep consideration as he did with any question that Dean asked him. He didn't notice the irritated way in which Dean ran a hand over his exhausted face. "No, I have nothing else I should be doing" the angel said finally. "My biggest obligation is keeping you protected. Since Sam's departure, I have been increasingly anxious about your safety."

A muscle at the corner of Dean's eye twitched. "I don't need a friggin' babysitter, Cas."

The angel blinked several times. Babysitter? Dean was not a baby, that much he knew. Could Dean be using the term metaphorically?

Seeing that Castiel was still mulling that one over, Dean turned on his heel and went into the motel office with a muttering of curses. When he returned five minutes later with a room key, Castiel hadn't moved.

"You might as well come inside with me," Dean said gruffly, "if you don't plan on treasure hunting for God or whatever." He grabbed a few guns and a bag of salt from the trunk and led Castiel rather hastily toward room number six.

The duffel bag was unceremoniously tossed into a chair, and Dean quickly followed in its descent, although he aimed for the creaky bed set against the wall beneath a rather ugly watercolor painting. Castiel watched the man sling an arm over his eyes and exhale loudly. He really did seem exhausted.

"You didn't need to bother getting two beds," Castiel said. "I don't need to sleep." Regardless, he sat down on the edge of the twin bed several feet from Dean's.

Dean lifted his head only slightly to regard Cas with a bit of a grin. When he fell back into his previous position, it was with a heavy sigh. "Yeah, old habits, I guess." His thoughts were on Sam again. Castiel wasn't sure what to say that could reassure him. The relationship between the Winchesters was one so thick and multi-layered that Castiel could not begin to understand it in the comparatively short amount of time that he'd known the two. Slowly, he was beginning to appreciate the truly emotional, hellish circumstances which drove a knife between them in the form of Michael and Lucifer. Maybe that's why he was risking himself for the Winchesters; because he, even as an angel, could feel compassion for these two men who feared the thought of losing each other above all else.

Castiel moved to the head of his bed, stretching out his legs along the mattress. From this position, he had a perfect view of the door, the window, and Dean (although it was hard to see anything else in such a tiny room). "Sleep now, Dean. I will wake you in four hours."

The man was already asleep. He wasn't even fully in the bed. His feet were still planted on the floor and his arms were thrown loosely up around his head as if he were falling. Castiel gave a soft chuckle and extinguished the lamp with a flexing of his mind, leaving them in almost total darkness. Light from the outside streetlamp was seeping in through the yellowed muslin curtains, giving the room a rather grim atmosphere. Castiel marveled momentarily at Dean's apparent comfort in such places. That was another wonder of this man; he had low standards for so proud a person. From the food he ate (greasy piles of processed meat not to be stomached), to the women he pursued (simplistic, peculiar creatures with carnal desires), to the very bed on which Dean now slept, none of it was good enough for him. Well, Dean of course didn't think this, but Castiel was of the opinion that the man deserved much better. He deserved the "apple pie life" (an expression the angel still didn't fully understand) that Dean and his brother always talked about.

Maybe it all came back to Dean's appetite. His appetite extended beyond food, drink, and women. Dean's hunger was more of a lust. He wanted as much out of life as he could lay his hands on, maybe because of his constant encounters with death itself.

Castiel's thoughts and speculations of Dean could fill many hours, more hours than he had at hand. He looked away from his intense fixation on the window and focused on the man sprawled across the neighboring bed.

The tattered t-shirt was threadbare, worn in. Even in the dim lighting, Castiel could see clearly the places where it would soon grow holes. The way the cloth was lifted on his body, a wide stretch of skin was visible above the waistband of Dean's jeans. The jeans were old, too; bloodstains that had been hurriedly scrubbed in a motel sink dotted several places on his knees and thighs. His boots were heavy and torn along the seams.

After surveying all of this, the angel's eyes again found that bare patch of skin on Dean's stomach. There was a bit of hair there too, just barely, at the hem of his jeans. Dean's awkward position was pulling his pants down enough to reveal half an inch of boxer shorts. Castiel felt almost intrusive at looking, which was new for him. He usually wasn't ashamed at making observation. Perhaps he _was_ spending too much time together with this human; it was affecting his judgment and personality in startling ways.

Castiel hoped that looking elsewhere would ease his own mingled feelings (embarrassment? guilt?). Of course, his eyes immediately sought out Dean's face.

There was no answer to the angel's emotions there. The shape of Dean's lips was too perfect. Parted slightly and breathing softly, the man looked utterly like the face of peace. His expression was not wholly calm, however. Castiel could see a furrowing at Dean's brow as if he were troubled even in sleep.

With no audible sound, Castiel eased himself off the old mattress and got to one knee beside Dean's bed. The man stirred slightly; his senses were well-practiced enough not to be snuck up on.

"You are a wonder, Dean Winchester," Castiel whispered on the end of a sigh. His hand rose to Dean's face and one careful finger brushed the crease of the man's brow. Castiel watched with unshakeable focus. He'd known for some time that his angelic control was slipping, but never had it breached so completely. Being cut off from heaven should have been enough to set him on his righteous path, where he belonged, but these months with the Winchesters – with Dean – they had shaken Castiel's once-decided morals. Free will was not something he was practiced in. He didn't know what it was like to live as Dean did, to know what one wants and to take it without question. As the angel crouched there in that moldy motel room, he saw with utter clarity what all the lights of Heaven had never shown him; Castiel knew what he wanted.

"Cas! Man, I told you to gimmie four friggin' hours! Why the hell are you touching me?"

Dean was awake.

Castiel drew his hand back, utterly shocked by Dean's abrupt spoiling of his calm fantasies. Rather than kneeling, he was now knocked backwards onto the dusty floor with his back against his bed. He looked up at Dean with wide eyes and eyebrows lifted to comic proportions. His mouth dropped open and close several times before he finally spoke.

"I thought we were…" he began, fumbling quickly for a lie. "I thought we were in danger. I was going to take you somewhere else but, uh, it appears we are safe now so you may—you may go back to sleep."

Dean sat up, rubbing the spot on his forehead where Castiel had touched. "What do you mean you _thought_ we were in danger?"

Castiel was more prepared for questions this time. His moment of stumbling was over and his lie had been formed. He pulled himself back up into his own bed and sat once again on the edge. "I sensed a presence outside. I think it was just a spirit, weak and harmless. We're still safe. You may go back to sleep." The angel looked down at his hands, clasping them, and looked back to Dean.

"You alright, Cas? You're acting weirder than normal." Dean regarded Castiel for a moment. Slowly he stood, stretching, and went to his duffle bag and removed a bag of salt. Castiel watched him closely as he spread it in front of the window, door, and even the air vent. At least the lie about a spirit had been believed.

The angel cleared his throat, finding it uncharacteristically dry. "I'm fine."

Dean turned away from his ghost-proofing only to catch Castiel's intense gaze. One eyebrow quirked. "You sure? Cause you look spooked. And you're giving me the creeps."

Castiel averted his eyes again. "My apologies. It's just you're—"

"A wonder?"

The angel's eyes returned to Dean, wide and comical again. "What?"

A grin had crept onto Dean's face, and only then did Castiel realize he'd been holding it in since he woke up. "You heard me."

"You mean you heard _me_?"

Dean chuckled softly, returning the bag of salt to his duffle. "I don't sleep anymore, Cas. Not fully, anyway. So yeah, I heard you. I also know there was no spirit here. It would have been a rookie move to miss some flickering lights or cold spots." The man casually kicked off his boots and removed his jeans. Castiel sat on the bed in utter bewilderment.

"I-I… Forgive me," the angel said. "I didn't mean to…"

"What? Molest me in my sleep?" Dean chuckled again and tapped the spot on his brow. "Don't worry about it." He fell back into bed, fully this time. There was no indication in his movements that Castiel's actions had disturbed him. Maybe the beers he drank in the car had something to do with it?

Castiel tugged at the neck of his collar, still feeling too warm. Dean was lying motionless with one hand on his chest and the other above his head, which pulled up his shirt once again just enough to reveal skin. The man looked close to sleep.

"I meant what I said," the angel said softly. "You are an extraordinary man, Dean."

Dean opened one eye, looking at Castiel, and smirked slightly. "You're a pretty decent guy yourself, Cas."

The two men stayed silent for some time. Had Castiel's senses been less attuned to Dean, he would have suspected the man of falling asleep. No, Dean was still awake, which led the angel to believe that there was something hung between them waiting to be said. The room felt impossibly smaller, like the space between their beds hardly existed. Castiel suddenly tore a hand through his hair and sighed. He was still perched on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees. Leaning forward, he buried his face in his hands and cursed himself with every language he had knowledge of. He was so absorbed in his internal frustration that he scarcely heard the shifting of Dean's bed. When he looked up, Dean was mirroring his position with an indecipherable expression.

"I'm not good at this stuff," Dean said, voice rough and low like Castiel was so accustomed to. The man's voice was a comfort. "But I, uh…am I nuts for thinking there's something, y'know, going on here?" He gestured weakly to the space between them, suddenly so vast now that it was being acknowledged.

Castiel considered this question. The trouble was, he didn't know how to respond. He was fascinated by Dean Winchester, that much was certain. But what that fascination meant was still being discovered, and Castiel felt he would not understand it for quite some time. He had a comprehension of the basics of being human emotion; sex and love were linked, he knew, but not necessarily equal. Just as his feelings for Dean were linked (respect and compassion; concern and affection), whether they were exclusively equivalent of the other was yet to be seen.

"You are my friend, Dean," said Castiel. "My greatest concern at this time is to keep you safe and on the track to defeating Lucifer."

Dean nodded with an air of having heard all this before. "Yeah, alright, that's what I thought." For a moment, he remained motionless on the edge of the bed. His gaze was unfocused and distracted as he said, "I'm gonna get my last three hours, then. Oakland County in the morning, right?"

"That's right."

The man grinned, looking care-free (yet tired) once again. "Vampires. Nothin' like a good old fashioned vampire hunt. G'night." Dean climbed under the covers and turned away from Castiel.

The angel stayed awake to wonder when exactly he'd been blind-sided by Dean Winchester. His feelings, although yet undefined, were nothing of the usual sort. Even as he glanced at the sleeping man, Castiel felt a stirring in his stomach.

He acknowledged that he might be in love. Love with Dean, another man, would not end well for him (Dean had a lot of guns and holy oil in that car of his). Castiel knew that love was not a wise emotion to be having, but he was beginning to suspect that it could not be helped.


	2. Separation

_**A/N: One of my favorite aspects of Dean and Castiel's on-screen relationship is the way they act around each other. Like, Dean is the cool upperclassman and Cas is the lost little freshman. I spend a lot of time in this fic talking about the way they look at each other, because I think that's a cannon piece of their relationship that shouldn't be lost. **_

_**Hope you enjoy chapter two! Reviews would mean the world :] Thanks for reading!**_

_**p.s. Just in case you're wondering, Keeping Close will extend through several chapters. More to come!**_

**Chapter Two: Separation**

That morning, as it was every morning, Dean Winchester rolled over in bed and tricked himself into believing that his life was normal. For just that moment upon waking, Dean allowed himself to believe that he was not who he was. In just that moment, he gave into the alluring concept of being someone other than himself.

On that particular morning, when Dean awoke in yet another grimy motel room with salt in front of the door and the shades drawn tight, he bypassed his usual ritual. He was far too distracted by the fact that someone was missing.

"Cas!" Dean's heart was hammering as he shot out of bed. There weren't many places to hide an angel in the room, so his search was left to simply calling out the angel's name. "Cas, damn it, where are you?"

Dean's pants and shirt were lying in a heap beside the bed. He must have woken up in the night and thrown them off; it was a habit of his. Quickly he pulled the clothes on and grabbed his cell phone from the pocket of his duffle.

Castiel picked up the phone on the second ring.

"Where the hell are you!" he barked. Dean yanked aside the curtain and could see the sun high in the sky, only slightly obscured by a sheet of hazy clouds. "You were only supposed to let me sleep four hours last night! It's almost noon!"

The angel's response came from behind him.

"You needed the sleep." Castiel drew the phone away from his ear and slipped it into the pocket of his trench coat. "I brought you breakfast." He offered Dean a carry-out bag from the burger joint down the street. There were inch-wide grease stains all over the heavy paper bag.

Dean snatched the bag away, annoyed at Castiel's disappearance, even if it profited with a bacon cheeseburger. "Well, thanks," he said gruffly. He glanced up at Cas, whose buggy blue eyes looked more somber than usual that morning. Dean sighed. It was really kind of touching that Cas had bought him breakfast (although Dean had no idea how Cas _got_ the food, since he definitely didn't have any money). He sighed.

"Thanks for the food, Cas." Dean sat back down on his bed and tore into the food with fervor.

"It's going to rain." Castiel was at the window, gazing up at the sky.

"Huh? Dude, sit down," Dean said through a mouthful of deep-fried beauty. "You give me the creeps when you pull your monotone angel bit."

Castiel followed orders and sat down on the bed across from Dean. The way his shoulders slumped so dramatically made Dean pause.

"You okay, man?" he said. "You look like someone spit in your Cheerio's."

The angel looked up. There was something in his face that was always so…hopeless. Dean didn't like it. He'd seen Cas _almost_ crack a smile before. That was a lot better. And last night, he'd been almost cheerful in the car. It wasn't until they got to the motel room that he'd started acting so strangely.

"I am fine," Cas replied flatly, his voice low and rumbling with a sort of authority that always caught Dean off guard.

For being such a geeky little guy in a trench coat, Cas had power in his voice. Dean couldn't help but think of that previous night, when Castiel had whispered something in his ear. _"You're a wonder, Dean Winchester."_ Yeah, that's what he'd said. Even the memory ran a chill up the back of Dean's neck. In all of his early morning fantasies of being normal, he'd never thought or felt something as completely insane as he did last night. He almost _wanted_ Cas to just come out and say there was something weird between them lately. Ever since Cas had stepped in to play Sam's role, it was like their connection, their friendship, had strung them closer. Dean wasn't the type to admit or acknowledge his feelings (really, he kept them in a fire-proof box in some forgotten broom closet deep in the back of his subconscious), and that was why it had taken every bit of nerve to ask Castiel, "Is there something going on here?" That was as deep into it as he could get. He couldn't ask what emotion it was that had made him so anxious at the angel's absence that morning. Dean managed to admit to himself that he was afraid of it.

Dean quickly finished eating his "breakfast." Because they'd already lost their head-start on the day's drive, he also took a shower and dressed in fresh clothes. All things considered, he was feeling good as he and Castiel climbed into the Impala and headed for Oakland County and its festering vampire problem. Dean cranked up the Nirvana and peeled out of the parking lot just as the rain started.

"Dean, may I ask you something?" Castiel asked after several minutes of silence.

"Sure, Cas."

"Last night, when you asked if anything was…going on here, between us… What did that mean?" The angel stared unabashedly at Dean, which made it suddenly difficult for the man to keep his focus on the road.

Dean swallowed past the nervous lump in his throat. Seriously? That damn angel was going to make him explain it? Dean's jaw tensed, his teeth rubbing together.

"Uh, I didn't mean anything in _particular_," Dean said rather lamely. "Well, I guess I was sorta wondering why you got up in the middle of the night and started whispering sweeting nothings at me, but…" He let the reply drop off, feeling for all the world like a class-A moron.

It may have been a trick of the eye, but Cas looked sincerely embarrassed.

"I apologize for disturbing you last night," he said softly.

Dean sighed, a frown appearing on his tanned face. The rain was beating down harder now, so hard that the windshield wipers had to work double-time to keep up. Dean didn't really like the idea of two hours in the car, in the rain, with a mopey angel, so he did something risky. He kept talking.

"I sleep better when you're there, Cas." The comment was meant to seem off-handed and simple, as most of Dean's statements were, but the words stuck in his throat like peanut butter. Even though he wasn't looking directly at him, Dean could sense a shift in Castiel's body language. He had the angel's attention, and so he continued (against his better judgment). "I know it sounds crazy, I _know_, but it's the truth. Ever since I got out of the pit, I've had these nightmares. Every night, nightmares about the things I did down there. I never thought they'd get better, much less stop. Well, they haven't stopped. They probably never will. But…it's different when I know you're there, Cas. Maybe because you're the one who got me out of there, I don't know, but it's not like when I'm with Sam. When you're with me, I just… I relax."

Dean chanced a look at Castiel. It wasn't as bad as he expected; Cas wasn't looking creeped out or anything (not that Cas normally displayed his emotions physically, to begin with).

"Is that true?" Castiel said.

Dean cleared his throat but could only nod.

"Hm."

"All you can say is _Hm_?" Dean said, sounding affronted.

Castiel's eyebrows lifted, his hands raising palms forward in a kind of defense. The reaction was so out of character that Dean was caught off-guard. "It's just that I thought you were always so relaxed because of the beer you consume while you drive, which is when we spend most of our time together."

The two of them looked at each other flatly until Dean cracked into a wide smile and gut-busting laughter. Even after all this time spent with Castiel, he forgot what an idiot the angel could be.

"Thanks for makin' me sound like some kinda alcoholic!" Dean chuckled. He would have sworn he saw a flicker of a smile spark onto Castiel's face, but it must have been drowned out by the rain.

Two hours brought them – finally – to Oakland County in all its vampire-infested glory. It was two-thirty by the time they checked into a motel (again booking two queen beds).

"Yeah, Bobby, we're here." Dean propped his phone between his ear and shoulder as he flipped through a newspaper he'd picked up in town. The front page was all about the "brutal slaughter" of a troupe of teenagers down at the beach. Oakland County bordered on a lake and a small crop of woods, where Dean was guessing the vampires were taking refuge.

"Bout damn time," was Bobby's reply. "You said you were gonna leave at the crack 'a dawn today. What took you so long?"

"Over slept," Dean said with a glance at Castiel, who was flipping through the motel's advertisement for a place called 'Dirty Harry's.' He had to hide his chuckle as he looked back to the newspaper.

Bobby grunted on the other end. "That angel there with ya'?" he said.

"Maybe. Why?"

"Just don't really know how much we can trust him, is all." Well, Bobby was nothing if not honest.

"We can trust him," Dean said. His tone said there was no room for negotiation on that point.

"All right, boy, don't get your panties in a twist. Now do you know how to find the blood-suckers?" he said, back to business.

Dean pulled over a map of the area. There were several abandoned homes in the area, as well as an old meat processing plant. He'd marked each possible location on the map, but his hunches were telling him to focus on the processing plant. "Yeah, I've got it all worked out."

"Their posse's probably pretty big, Dean. Make sure you're careful. Damn I wish Sam was there with you." Bobby sighed heavily, and Dean could picture the way he would lift up his trucker hat and scratch his balding head.

Dean nearly winced. "Yeah, me too. But don't worry, I'm not alone on this one." His eyes again returned to Cas.

When Dean finally hung up the phone, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. What he wouldn't give to have Sam's help on this job.

"We cannot start the hunt until the rain stops, correct?" Cas said. Lighting had started flashing a while ago and the wind was looking brutal.

"Looks like it," Dean said. He sighed again and got to his feet. "I'm gonna take a shower." He pulled his shirt off and went to his duffle, looking for a clean change of clothes.

Castiel was looking pointedly at the large scar like a burn on Dean's left shoulder. Dean caught the look and lifted his arm, inspecting it himself.

"You literally lifted me out, then, huh?" Dean said, running his opposite hand over the mark.

Cas nodded. "Yes. It nearly killed me to do, but it was vital that I get you out of Hell."

Dean chuckled dryly. "Yeah, thanks for that."

In fluid steps, Castiel crossed the room, drawing unconsciously close to Dean. Unlike usual, the man didn't try to put more distance between them. He didn't even think about it. The angel's eyes had him fixed. Castiel raised his hand and placed it lightly over the scar on Dean's arm. Dean felt the skin prickle; he shivered.

"I am more relaxed around you as well," Castiel said. "I thought you should know that." His gaze was meaningful and weighted. His hand did not leave Dean's arm; in fact, the fingers clenched as if they were unwilling to let go.

The two men stared at each other, eyes flicking over their faces. They both appeared to be frozen, drawn together as if by some outside force. Dean could feel some kind of attraction keeping him rooted to the spot. His mind was absent and only instinct remained. In that one second, everything changed.

Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to Castiel's.

There had been many kisses in Dean Winchester's life. From the stumbling and awkward to the heated and passionate, kissing was nothing new to him. Kissing a man, however, that was a new one. The kicker was he wasn't even sure _why_ he did it. But now that Cas was reacting, there didn't seem to be room to backtrack now.

The angel pushed his lips back against Dean's. In some inane part of his mind, Dean wondered how Cas knew _how_ to kiss; the dude was an infinitely old virgin, for crying out loud. He felt Castiel's grip on his arm grow tighter, and without thinking, he put his own hand to Cas' shoulder. They were keeping each other bound.

When they pulled away and Dean took a breath, his brain kicked back in. Stumbling, he backed away from the angel. He held up a hand as if warding Castiel off.

"S-sorry," Dean said thickly. He couldn't look at Cas. His eyes were drawn to the floor. Inside, his mind was reeling with self-repulsion and disbelief. Had he really just gotten to first base with a _guy_, much less _Cas_? The lingering feeling on his lips told him yes, and quite loudly.

"Dean," Castiel said. He took a step forward, but Dean kept his hand in place, blocking Cas from getting closer. "Dean it's all right."

"No it's _not_ right. I shouldn't have done that. I— Cas, I'm sorry." Dean grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor and pulled it on, along with his jacket. "I-I've gotta go. I need a drink." He still couldn't look at the angel.

"Let me come with you."

"No," Dean said abruptly. He looked up at Cas. The guy looked like he'd been punched in the neck, but Dean thought for a moment he saw a blush on his cheeks. "I'll be back soon." Lightning flashed outside; thunder shook the room.

Castiel looked toward the window and back to Dean. "It is not safe. The vampires—"

"I'll be fine." Dean's voice was flat. He got the car keys from the bedside table and walked outside before Castiel could convince him to stay. If he did stay, Dean knew that the night would take him further down the rabbit hole than he cared to go.

That kiss was stupid, Dean decided. He wasn't gay. There were at least a dozen satisfied girls who could vouch for that. Still, Dean was willing to admit to himself that his feelings for Cas were a little…unconventional. It could have been the fact that Castiel was the only non-douchey angel he knew. There was a respect there, that was sure. So maybe that's what it was. Just respect and a friendly guy bond.

Dean called 'bullshit,' even on his own thoughts. He cared about Cas. Yes, he was attracted to him. He didn't know why. He didn't care to figure it out just then, either. All Dean wanted to do was drink a beer and flirt with the closest thing in a skirt.

Oakland County was almost a real city, not one of those single traffic light towns. It was a nice change; it meant more women and more bars. Dean drove toward the downtown area, and it wasn't until he pulled into the parking lot of some place called Trapper's that he realized he'd left his cell phone back at the motel. He knew he should go in get it just in case Cas needed to find him, but he didn't think he could face the angel just yet.

The moment Dean entered the bar, he understood where it had gotten its name. There were four large ornate cages stationed throughout the room, and in each cage was a big-chested girl wearing a black leather bikini. Around each cage were a ring of seats, almost all of which were full of wide-eyed men. The lights were low and music pumped loudly from unseen speakers. Dean grinned. His strip bar senses were definitely on overload tonight.

The last thing on his mind was Castiel, and that was just the way Dean wanted it. He would deal with their kiss later. Now, he could see a very pretty girl working the bar who looked in need of some shameless flirting.

"Hey," the girl said, smiling, as Dean settled himself into a barstool. "What can I get 'cha?"

Dean grinned, looking her over. She had loosely curled brown hair and a noticeable tattoo on her collar bones, displayed by her conveniently low-cut blouse. "Budweiser, please," he said.

"Sure thing." She grabbed a bottle from beneath the bar and uncapped it for him. As he took the first sip, her smile reappeared. "I'm Lana," she said.

"Dean," he replied. His eyes returned to her tattoo. It was some sort of snake curled around the hilt of a knife. Weirdly biker-guyish for such a pretty girl. "I gotta say," he said, "that is quite the tattoo."

She giggled and put her fingertips to it. "I know it's a bit weird."

"I like weird," Dean said. He also liked the way Lana's lip-gloss looked in the low lighting. Even as he started thinking about kissing her, his mind flashed back to the motel room. He took another sip of beer to drown out thoughts of Cas. "So what's the story behind it?" He gestured to the tattoo.

"Oh, it's just something that me and my friends all have," she said. "We all got the same one, right over our hearts." She grinned at Dean, leaning against the bar. The way her cleavage looked in that position wasn't lost on him.

"How sweet," Dean said, chuckling.

The two of them talked, flirted, and laughed for nearly two hours. The other men in the bar were too concerned with the girls in the cages whom they'd never have the chance to bring home. Dean, on the other hand, stuck with Lana. He was no amateur, and he knew how to get laid.

"What do you say we go to my place?" Lana said in Dean's ear. "It's too noisy in here." She laid a soft kiss at his jawline.

It may have been the two beers he'd drank, but that sounded a-okay to Dean. He told Lana to lead the way.

Outside, the sky was growing dark. The storm was still raging. Dean and Lana bent against the wind on the way to his car (Lana had explained she didn't have a car, and that a friend always drove her to work).

"Oo, this is the _coolest_ car," Lana gushed, running her hand along the Impala's exterior.

Dean glanced up at her, grinning. "Ain't she pretty?" He fumbled with the keys. In all that rain and wind, he couldn't get the key to go in the lock. In the frustration, he didn't notice Lana come up behind him, but he _did_ notice when she put a hand to his lower abdomen.

"I want you, Dean," she said, standing on her toes to talk in his ear again. "After all, you smell so _good_."

"I smell—?"

Something dawned in Dean's brain just then. Like a click, he realized he was being stupid. Her tattoo. The way she looked at him like he was something to eat. Damn, he should have seen it before!

All of Dean's revelations were lost to the brutal smashing of his skull against the car door. In a flash of lightning and pain, Dean fell to the ground in a heap, unconscious and bleeding. Lana knelt down beside him, a pleased smile on her face. She ran one finger through the crimson line on his forehead and licked off the blood.

"Oh Dean," she said. "I can't wait to introduce you to my friends."


	3. Eat your heart out, Edward Cullen

_**A/N: When I began writing this fic, I honestly intended it to be a smut-fest; clean and simple, git-r-done in 3,000 words or less. I began writing chapter one almost four months ago and only last week picked it up again, randomly, and turned it into this. I hope none of you fabulous readers mind the thus-far absence of any true smut, but personally I'm having fun with the plot. Your patience will be rewarded, I promise! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed or added this story to their favorites, and thank you even if you're just silently reading without a comment (I's watching you) :D **_

**Chapter Three: Eat your heart out, Edward Cullen**

Castiel was smarter than Dean sometimes gave him credit for (he was an angel, after all, and therefore as old as the Earth itself, maybe older). So when Dean left in such a hurry after their encounter in the motel room, Castiel's first instinct was to follow him. Even if the markings carved into the man's ribs kept Castiel from tracking him, it was easy enough to simply flit from place to place as Dean drove into town, staying out of sight.

When Dean entered the bar called Trapper's, Castiel resigned himself to several hours of waiting. He should have just left Dean to his drinking, but a nagging sensation in Castiel's mind told him that he would be needed. There was a strange scent on the air, but he couldn't pin it down amidst all the rain. He stayed across the street, on top of a three-story building where he had clear view of the bar. He didn't need to go inside to know that Dean would quickly locate the most attractive woman and attempt to woo her into bed with him.

His suspicions were rewarded. Dean left the bar with an admittedly very pretty girl on his arm. Castiel watched the two bend against the rain, covering their heads as they hurried to Dean's car. The way Dean's hand went to her lower back, guiding her, was not lost on the angel. He felt a strange twinge somewhere deep inside of himself.

Even as Castiel stood there in the rain, he knew that the introduction of these new feelings that had him gripped would not bode well. Heaven had its fair share of reasons to cast him completely from Grace, and if he were caught, that's exactly what they would do when they realized the extent of Castiel's movement away from the divine. He was becoming too human, and all of his time alone with Dean was the clearest catalyst of that.

Just as he had decided to leave Dean to his evening of promiscuous sex, Castiel caught a whiff of something on the air that made him stop dead. He knew that smell. It was coming at him stronger now; maybe the wind was blowing it at him. His eyes trained on the strange girl now walking around the front of Dean's car to wrap her arms around him.

Castiel knew that scent. Vampires.

The girl knocked Dean unconscious against the side of his own car, and Castiel watched his charge fall in a heap to the wet concrete. It was terrible, watching the vampire kneel beside him to lap up a taste of his blood, but Castiel held his ground. For now. This vampire had a coven to return to, which meant her prey had to be returned to them. At the risk of putting Dean in harm's way, it would now be more than easy to kill the Oakland County coven. All Castiel had to do now was hope this vampire woman didn't stop along the way for a snack.

Dean's first thought that he was dead. Well, if not dead, then well on his way. His ass was asleep and his lower back hurt like a bitch. There was a taste in his mouth like rotting meat.

_Vampire_. Lana, she was a vampire. Shit. Dean bit this inside of his cheek as a form of punishment for his own stupidity. Lana had vampire written all _over_ her, but he'd been too distracted by his need for over-compensation to realize it. Suddenly he was damn glad that Sammy wasn't on the job with him; he'd never live this one down.

There was a sharp pain in his wrists. Of course, they'd tied him up, presumably to a pole. He tried to stretch and contort his hands, but soon gave up trying to undo the knot. He knew it couldn't be so easy, but it was worth a shot, anyway.

What pissed him off most was that they'd blindfolded him. As if he didn't have enough to worry about.

"H-hello? Is someone there?"

Dean's ear twitched at the voice. It was a girl's. She sounded young. Young and terrified. "Yeah, yeah. What's your name?" he said.

There was a scuffling, as if the girl was struggling against her own bounds. "M-my name is Ashlyn. Who are you?"

"The name's Dean. Listen, I'm gonna get you out of here," he said, putting an urgent hush to his voice.

Then, all at once, he could see.

"Oh you _think_ so, pretty boy?" A hollow-faced man with stark blonde hair and the typical red eyes of a vampire was crouched before him. He leaned in to sniff appreciatively at Dean's neck. "You two ain't goin' _no_ where."

Dean took the chance to absorb his surroundings. His first guess was that he was in the abandoned meat processing plant. Dirty sheets were hung from the high ceiling to create separate rooms (Dean noticed sickly that most of the sheets were splashed with blood). He and the girl, Ashlyn, were tied to two support beams in the center of the large room, surrounded by a rusted cage. He looked back to the Lost Boys reject in front of him and scoffed.

"I'm just passin' through," Dean said.

The blonde vampire cackled. "Yeah, you're blood'll be passin' through my guts come dawn." He put one finger to Dean's temple and pressed hard. Dean could feel his skin split open where he'd already been bashed against the Impala. The blonde vampire collected a sample of blood on his finger nail and put it to his lips, moaning softly. "Delicious."

"Jackson, back off," said none other than Lana. She entered the cage and grabbed the blonde vampire by the scruff of the neck, tossing him aside. Her gaze softened as she looked on Dean. She bent over with her hands on her knees and her breasts swaying dangerously in her low-slung top. That damn tattoo was practically laughing Dean in the face.

"You know, when most girls want to play rough, we usually start by picking a safe word. S'just common courtesy," Dean said.

Lana's laugh was a mockery. "You're funny. I don't eat funny people very often."

"Just call me a Happy Meal."

She grinned. "See what I mean?" Lana ran her hand gently down the side of Dean's face. He had the sudden crazy urge to bite _her_ and see how she liked it. "But you know," Lana continued, "I was a bit disappointed in you. Being Dean Winchester and all, I thought you'd put up a bit more of a fight." She reached into her back pocket and pulled out his gun and a small knife that he kept in his boot. "And _this_ is all you had on you? Honey, I've killed high school kids who pack more heat."

As if Lana had personally threatened her, Ashlyn began to struggle again on her side of the cage. She was dressed nicely, in a blouse and a white skirt now soiled by the filthy factory floor. If Dean had to guess, she looked no older than eighteen.

"Oh relax, girl," Lana said in a purr to Ashlyn. "We haven't forgotten about you, have we, Jackson?"

Jackson came up behind Ashlyn in a sort of crawl. He stroked the girl's face, making her yelp in surprise. "Certainly haven't," the blonde said, chuckling darkly. "Come on, Lana, let's take them out of the cage now. Maureen and Joe'll just keep complaining about how hungry they are."

"No," Lana snapped. "We have to wait for Paul. You know how much he hates to get last pick on meals. Besides, he said he was going to make a pit-stop at the daycare." Her grin was bat-shit terrifying.

"Sickos," Dean said under his breath. Vampires just about topped witches in the 'skeevey' category.

Lana only chuckled in response. "Oh Dean, wait until you see what we have planned _you_. We don't particularly give a shit about all this angel versus demon business, but I'm sure you can bet where we're throwing in our chips." She left him with a kiss on the cheek. Over her shoulder, she told Jackson, "You might as well untie the girl's gag. These two probably want to have a nice little chat; share last words and all."

Jackson grinned wickedly as he undid the knot keeping a bit of cloth bound in Ashlyn's mouth. "Catch ya' later, doll face."

"What did you do with Aaron, you bastard?" Ashlyn threw out one of her legs to kick Jackson as he passed, but the vampire avoided the attack nimbly.

Jackson turned and patted his stomach. "Your little boyfriend was _quite_ the screamer. He's lyin' over in Joe's room, if you still want him. But, I feel like I should mention he's missin' a few important bits. Namely, his _guts_!" The blonde vampire walked away, cackling loudly. The cage door shut with a bang and they were locked in. Ashlyn started to cry.

Dean's head knocked back against the post he was tied to and he sighed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so stupid (actually, yes he could; he'd started the apocalypse not too long ago). "Cas, if you can hear me, I need your help," he muttered. He couldn't see a way out of this one. Ashlyn had to be saved if at all possible, and Lana said that children were soon going to be involved. This was a bad situation all around. Maybe if he could somehow get his hands unbound, he'd be able to pick the lock of the cage, kill all five vampires with whatever weapon he could find, save the innocents, and get back to the motel in time to pretend nothing had happened. Yeah, that would _totally_ work.

Castiel's plan to follow Dean had gone perfectly. He knew where the Impala was stashed, and he knew exactly how he would get Dean and any other victims out alive. A part of him was thrilled at the chance to enact some small revenge on Dean in the form of a smug rescue. The angel didn't understand the emotion, but what he was feeling was embarrassment. Part of him wanted to make Dean admit his feelings without getting spooked, which would of course take a near-death experience.

Despite his separation from the host of Heaven, Castiel still possessed the ability to remain unseen but watchful. He observed closely the location of the vampires and the cage which held Dean and the girl, Ashlyn. He watched the female vampire and her blonde companion harass their prisoners, ready to abandon his surprise attack if either vampire showed an inclination to take a bite. When Lana declared that their meal would have to wait until the arrival of Paul, Castiel grinned. He happened to know that Paul would be unable to attend, as his body was lying in a dumpster while his head lay in the trash can beside it. Killing vampires was no problem, which is why Castiel would have a bit of fun with this situation, as he was assured that neither Dean nor Ashlyn would be harmed.

At the sound of his own name on Dean's lips, Castiel moved in closer, still unseen. It would be hard to describe exactly what physical state he was in then. He was closer in that moment to the angels of popular belief; he could see and hear all that happened around him, but he was not at liberty to interact without being seen. The quiet plea uttered by his charge nearly caused Castiel to lose control and reveal himself, but he remained in the shadows of existence for the time being. He wanted to hear what else Dean may have to say.

Ashlyn looked over at Dean. The poor child was completely terrified. Her makeup was streamed down her face in inky black lines, giving her the appearance of a ghost or a zombie. She trembled as she said, "Are you really s-sure you can get us out of he-here?"

Dean nodded, attempting a smile. "Positive." Castiel could see the doubt in his eyes. "I've got a friend on the outside who'll be looking for me." There was doubt behind that, too.

"W-who…what are you?"

Dean chuckled. "I'm just a guy. A hunter, actually. I kill these things for a living."

Ashlyn regarded him for several moments, still shivering. "You're crazy."

"Occupational requirement," Dean said. He fidgeted with the ropes at his wrists again. Inspecting his progress, Castiel was slightly surprised that Dean had already worked the knot loose. With only a little more work, he would have himself untied. "I'm sorry about your boyfriend," he said to the girl. The death of an innocent stranger was the sort of thing Dean blamed himself on as a rule of being a Winchester.

Ashlyn sniffed. "Aaron and me have been dating for two years now. He was taking me to see an opera tonight." She looked down at her ruined skirt and the single high-heeled shoe left on her foot. It was easy to see that she would have been very pretty if not for the cloud of fear and hopelessness surrounding her.

Dean finally got his bonds loose. With scarcely a triumphant grin, he glanced toward the vampires, who were huddled around a television. He stood and went to Ashlyn. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him, free and smiling, while he untied her hands.

"Thank you," the girl said, seeming to question the statement.

"Pleasure," Dean responded. "Could I borrow your bobby pin, please?" He gestured to the hair pin keeping up her falling up-do. Ashlyn removed it from her hair without question.

The invisible angel felt a renewed faith in the man. He knew the amount of pride that Dean took in saving people, and after watching so many die, it would be a comfort to know that he'd saved at least this eighteen year old girl from a fate as a vampire's lunch.

"Who's Cas?" Ashlyn said. She was still on the floor, like she didn't have the strength to stand.

Dean looked over his shoulder. His arm was slipped through one of the slats in the cage while he tried to pick the lock, but Ashlyn's question seemed to have him stumped. "What?"

"A minute ago you were muttering about someone named Cas. Is that another vampire hunter?"

Dean didn't have time to explain it now, and so he said, "Kinda." Ashlyn seemed comfortable with the response and allowed Dean to work the lock without interruption. It was giving him trouble, either due to the angle or the rust, but Dean cursed several times under his breath. His eyes returned fleetingly to the vampires. They seemed distracted, but there was no telling if they were just playing dumb.

The answer to that question came quickly.

One wrong move of the bobby pin, and a crunching of rusted metal rang loud even to Dean. It caused all four vampires to turn at once. They didn't look happy.

"Trying to escape, eh?" said Lana. She stood, smirking at the two in the cage. "Guys, why don't you fish the girl out of there? We'll have a nice little snack."

Ashlyn shrieked, freshly terrified. She scuttled to the back of the cage, shrinking into the corner and covering her head as if it could stop the three ravenous vampires.

Dean showed no sign of fear, despite his not having a weapon. He stood in front of Ashlyn, ready to fight.

He didn't get the chance.

Castiel appeared outside of the cage, just in time to knock back the female. She hit a distant support beam with an echoing clang and fell to the ground, dazed. The remaining male vampires accepted the new foe quickly and set in on trying to subdue him.

"Cas!" Dean threw himself against the wall of the cage, trying to open it and join the fight. "I need a weapon!"

"You have me, don't you?" was the angel's only reply.

Castiel grabbed the hulking dark vampire, Joe, by the shoulders. In a sharp crack and a shower of blood, Joe's head was sent rolling into some shadowy corner of the warehouse. There was no time to recover before the female, Maureen, threw herself at Castiel and moved to tear into his neck. Her attack was easily blocked and her head removed. The angel kicked aside her body and got to his feet. Jackson was standing back, crouched as if to attack but showing no desire to.

"What are you doing, you idiot, kill him!" Lana shouted.

Jackson looked nervously between his boss and his enemy, unable to decide which was worse. "This guy ain't human, Lana!"

Castiel vanished and appeared again directly behind the blonde. "You're right," he said. Jackson's headless body fell forward in the next second.

"Cas, she's running!" Dean pointed to Lana's retreating back as she stumbled away. He'd never seen a vampire stumble before; maybe the fear was a contributing factor.

She wasn't hard to catch. Dean knelt beside Ashlyn, not needing to watch Castiel to know that she would be taken down.

Ashlyn was curled in on herself, blocking her face with her arms. Her shoulders shook violently with the threats of hyperventilation. She sort of looked like Dean felt.

"Hey, Ashlyn," Dean said softly, trying not to scare her further. He hesitantly put a hand to her shoulder, which she flinched away from. "It's alright, they're dead. They're all dead. You don't have to be afraid anymore."

"I don't want to see them," she said in an unsteady, rattling whisper. "I don't want to see the bodies."

"Alright, it's okay." He could sympathize with that. He'd hide from it all too, if it weren't so much a part of him. "Just stay here a second." Dean stood, turning.

Castiel stood in the open door of the cage, covered in the vampires' blood. The angel looked completely undisturbed by what he'd just done. "Are you alright?" he said, despite already knowing the answer. Dean had not been harmed physically, beyond the injury to his head in the parking lot.

The hunter nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. You?"

Castiel looked down at himself. In an instant, his soiled clothes were cleaned, and all signs of blood vanished from his hands. He was back to looking like a geeky accountant. "I am fine," he replied. "What of the girl?"

Dean scratched the back of his head. "She's alright. Her boyfriend was killed. She doesn't want to see any of the bodies, though. Could you, uh, y'know, do your teleport gig and take her home?"

Castiel wordlessly moved past Dean and put a hand to the girl's shoulder. He said something in her ear, to which she nodded. With the sound of fluttering wings, they were gone.

Now alone, Dean stepped out of the cage and went to the set of dilapidated couches and chairs that served as the vampire living area. His gun and knife were sitting on the damn coffee table, right next to a bloody pile of teeth that still had braces glued to them. Dean winced; vampires were skeevey.

Castiel returned with salt and a can of gasoline. Together they disposed of the vampires' bodies, and separately, the corpse of Ashlyn's boyfriend and any other victims they found in the warehouse.

They left soon after lighting the match and throwing it onto the piles. They didn't speak, not once, while disposing of the carnage. Dean didn't even complain about being teleported home.


	4. Down the Rabbit Hole

_**A/N: This fic has been so much fun to write. I can't even explain how pleased I am with it, and how flattered I am with all of the great feedback! You will all see plenty more works from me in the future (all most likely in the Supernatural fandom). **_

_**If anyone should happen to have suggestions for future fics, please send me a message! I'd love to hear some requests :D **_

**Chapter Four: The Rabbit Hole**

It was close to one in the morning when they returned to the motel. Dean hadn't realized so much time had passed, but then again he had a bump on his head that suggested he'd been unconscious for several hours. The exhausted hunter fell into bed with a groan. Beside him, Castiel sat on the edge of his own bed, looking very stiff, like his angel walls were back up. They remained in silence for some time, not looking at each other. All Dean could do – even after coming so close yet again to death – all he could do was remember their kiss. It had lasted for less than a minute, yet the repercussions were chasing him down like some kind of Hell Hound.

Dean ran a hand over his face. He wanted to kiss Castiel again. _Badly_. The realization struck him as suddenly as he'd struck the roof of the Impala. Suddenly it was as if he knew a truth that had been concealed as a lie all along. To distract himself, he said, "What did Ashlyn say to you? She whispered something to you before you guys vanished."

Castiel's reply was soft. "She asked if I could make her forget everything."

Dean sat up. Castiel had been staring at him. They locked eyes. "And did you?"

The angel nodded. "I have enough Grace left in me for that. She seemed to sense what I am, which is what I think prompted her to ask." He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "I wiped her mind clear of vampires and the violent death of her lover. I only left her with his last words to her, which will linger in her head like something heard in a dream."

"That—that was sweet of you, Cas," Dean said.

Castiel looked back to him and smiled in his melancholy way. "It is only because of you I have these emotions, this understanding. Even after existing for so long, I have never encountered human emotion as strongly as I have these past months. I can appreciate now the need to be close to someone." The way he said it was so innocently honest in that Cas kind of way that it physically knocked the breath out of Dean.

"I'm sorry," the man said, "for running out of here after, y'know, everything."

Cas looked at him pointedly, as if he wanted Dean to say out loud what he was talking about. The damn angel was a crafty bastard, under all the ignorance. "Do you mean after you kissed me?"

"_I_ kissed _you_?" Dean said, acting affronted. "Excuse me, feathers-for-brains, but you were the one running a full-on seduction."

"All I did was touch your arm," Cas said simply. "You were the one who kissed me."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. His hands came together in his lap, fingers linking. This was an OK from Cas to do what he wanted. Castiel was speaking so openly, as opposed to his normally measured speech. Dean had seen enough pairs of "fuck me eyes" to know the signs. There was a stirring in his belly as he looked back up at the angel, and it was definite; Castiel _wanted_ him to kiss him again.

Standing slowly, Dean moved to stand in front of Castiel. When the angel attempted to stand, Dean put a staying hand to his shoulder and kept him seated firmly on the bed. He stood so close that Castiel was forced to open his legs and allow Dean to stand between them.

"Before I do anything," Dean said, "I want you to explain one thing."

"Yes?" Castiel's voice had dropped an octave. His eyelids seemed heavy, maybe owing to the fact the Dean was leaning ever so slightly against his groin, creating a teasing pressure.

"If you're supposed to be an emotionless douche bag or whatever, why the sudden sex drive?" Dean pushed his hand beneath the collar of Castiel's trench coat, moving to loosen his tie.

The corner of Cas' mouth caught itself in a smirk. "This is not only about sex, Dean. As an angel, I have no real desire of it. There is something about you, however, that makes me crave a human life. It is blasphemous to say, but for the first time I doubt myself. Because of you."

"I don't follow."

"You live such an unfortunate life. Other humans would have been driven mad by the pressure that rests on your shoulders alone. Yet, despite all of this, you have such light in you. I see it in the way you smile, when you laugh with your brother. You are a man that I envy, Dean, because of your passion. This has made me into little more than a child trying to emulate their hero figure, but there you have it." Castiel splayed his hands, palms up, as if he were literally offering Dean the explanation in the form of a physical thing. "You have made me long to be a creature of emotion, if only to allow myself a closer bond with you."

It was the only love confession that the angel knew how to preform, and it struck Dean more powerfully than he would have anticipated. Dean grasped the understanding then that Castiel's affection was like none other he'd experienced before. Castiel was in love, not lust (although there was a note of the latter in his eyes). Leaning in slowly and carefully, Dean pressed his lips to Castiel's again, showing no signs of wanting to turn away.

The awkward angle of their kiss soon prompted Castiel to stand. He backed Dean up until he was pressed against the far wall. The angel seem inclined to take control of the kiss, which Dean let him have. Castiel's lips were strong and demanding against his own. In an effort to be closer, Dean worked to get some of Castiel's many layers stripped away. The trench coat dropped to the floor and Dean put his hand to the back of Cas' now-exposed neck, holding him there. Their tongues met, running into each other's mouths and vying for dominance. Dean noticed after a short time that he wasn't breathing. He pulled away enough to exhale, chuckling softly.

"How are you so good at this?" he breathed against the angel's lips.

Cas grinned. "I may be a virgin, but I know how this works, Dean. I know what gets you aroused." He put a hand beneath the man's shirt, making him shiver at the coolness of his hand.

"So now I've got an angelic stalker? Fan-_friggin_-tastic," he said in a manner intended to be teasing. Their lips met again, less experimental and more determined.

They removed each other's clothing methodically, exploring each new inch of skin as it was revealed. Fingertips brushed over lines of muscle and their hips pressed together as their excitement grew. When they were both down to their underwear, Castiel began to massage Dean's groin through the front of his boxer-briefs. A low guttural moan escaped the man. He closed his eyes as his head fell forward onto Castiel's shoulder.

"Cas, t-that feels so good," he managed. "Bed, now."

Together they fell into bed, Dean on top and looking very pleased with the position. He kissed a gentle, wet line down Castiel's chest, stopping just at the waistband of his underwear. Seeming hesitant, he glanced up at Cas.

"I don't know if I can do this, Cas," Dean said. "I mean, with a guy… it's weird. I've never—"

"I know," Castiel said. "Try not to think about that. There is no one here to judge you. I won't even hold it against you that you have been with so many women." He chuckled in a very human manner.

The spark lit in Dean's eye almost instantaneously. "Hey, you won't be mocking me for my experience when we're done here, pal." His fervent kissing resumed, going further down until he laid a tantalizingly light kiss to the defined bulge just behind the thin cloth of Castiel's underwear.

The angel gave a wanton moan. Dean glanced up just in time to see the arch of his neck and a subtly gripping of the bed sheets. The hunter kissed Castiel's erection one last time before pulling off the final layers of clothing that stood between them. Something in the back of Dean's mind went off like a buzzer, as if marking the final checkpoint before no-turning-back. He grinned to himself, blowing right past that stop sign with vigor.

"W-wait," Castiel said, stopping Dean before he could close his mouth around the shaft. "Get on your back."

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "But I was havin' so much fun down here." He chuckled and circled his thumb around the top of Castiel's dick.

"You'll like this," the other man said breathily. "Promise."

Dean found he couldn't deny Castiel when he looked so heated and full of lust. The two met in a sloppy kiss as they switched positions, Castiel now straddling Dean's hips. For a moment, Dean became nervous. He wasn't quite ready to go the full nine-yards into Gayville.

"Don't worry," Castiel said in the midst of several tender kisses to the man's neck. "I'm not going to hurt you." To pacify him, Cas reached in between their bodies and began to work Dean's length with his hand, drawing some uncontrolled moans. Seeing Dean in so much pleasure was something the angel had imagined but never anticipated to be so erotic. It was like finally witnessing something that had until then been completely secret, which Castiel supposed it was. Dean was so different in bed than he was anywhere else. Already the man's inhibitions were down as were his cleverly-placed walls. Castiel couldn't help but drown out Dean's moans with another heated kiss.

As they continued to move against each other, going slowly but with a certain amount of desperation, Castiel began to position himself quite particularly. His caresses of Dean's length became guided, with a goal in mind. The angel spread the precum over the length of Dean's cock.

Dean caught on to what Castiel was going to do several moments before he actually did it. He pulled away from their kiss and looked at the angel uncertainly. He didn't want to hurt Cas any more than Cas wanted to hurt him.

"Don't worry," the angel said softly. "You won't hurt me."

Dean grinned at Castiel's particular habit of reading his mind without any use of his supernatural power.

The pale-skinned angel leaned in slowly and placed one tender, careful kiss on Dean's parted lips. As he drew away, his blue eyes connected with Dean's green ones. Castiel laid his free hand once again over the scar on Dean's arm, squeezing the flesh with purpose.

"This is not me," Castiel said. "This body, it is not who – what – I am. You have to know that." His eyes were searching for something in Dean's face.

Dean nodded. His hips ground weakly against the other man, unable to stop himself. "I know, Cas, I know."

"This mark I have left on you is nothing compared to the one left on me," Castiel whispered.

Their eyes remained connected as Castiel slid himself onto Dean. A flicker of discomfort appeared on the angel's face for just a moment, but soon he relaxed. Dean pulled him in for another kiss and as one they moved together, all heavy breathing and desperate touch. They pawed at each other, losing all sense of hesitancy or caution. Dean's hand gripped Castiel's hip until red marks appeared on his pale flesh. There was no need to control his strength or his need with Castiel; he was no woman or mortal being. The gravity that came with bedding an angel struck Dean but did not slow him down. He wanted this, needed it, and he only wondered how it had taken him so long to realize that.

Castiel's movements quickened, rolling his hips harder and deeper against Dean as his lust grew more inflamed. There was a heat beneath his skin like the fires of Hell itself, although far more pleasurable. He shivered with the touch of Dean's hand on his groin. Soon the angel began to lose any rhythm of his movements. His breathing became labored, heavy, and for a moment as Dean looked up at him, there appeared to be a light shining off of his skin.

"Dean, I'm going to—"

"Just hang on, I-I'm almost there." With what appeared to be an expertly practiced maneuver, Dean sat up and hitched Castiel's legs around his waist. In no time at all, their positions were reversed yet again, and Castiel was sprawled on the mattress while Dean moved against him with deep thrusts. The hunter captured Castiel's lips and their kiss turned into biting and bursts of breath.

"Dean," Castiel said again, urgently. He grasped Dean's shoulder with one hand and the back of his neck with the other. Dean could feel the angel's fingertips raising red welts on his skin in long parallel lines.

Dean ducked his head into the crook of Castiel's neck and in that position they reached climax together. They moved and jerked for those last bits of utter ecstasy before the feeling eventually faded into nothing but collapse. Dean grit his teeth, calling out Castiel's name on the edge of a heavy exhale, still rotating his hips into his angel. The sound of his own name being called out by the man beneath him was the final burst of pleasure before Dean's orgasm came to an end. Each breath was a joint effort, and the stars dancing before each of their eyes were blinding. Both men fell limp, utterly spent and exhausted. Dean pressed last kisses to the curve of Castiel's neck, feeling the stubble and roughness that he wasn't quite used to yet. Carefully, the hunter removed himself and rolled over to lie next to Castiel, putting one hand on his chest and his head on the angel's shoulder.

The room felt hot and very small, too small to contain the whirling thoughts of both panting men on the bed. What they'd done could never be taken back. Dean had brief terrifying images of Cas suddenly sitting up and screaming as Heaven chucked him out then and there. The thought of being the cause of Castiel's Fall made the hunter only clutch tighter to him, although he felt silly and girlish for doing so.

Castiel wrapped one arm around the man at his side. A peaceful, happy smile was on his face; a smile that Dean had never seen before. They met eyes and chuckled a bit, leaning in for another kiss, soft and quiet and content.

"I have wanted to be with you like this for a long time, Dean Winchester," Castiel said, running his thumb over Dean's cheek. He stared openly at the man, feeling for the first time like he had every right to look.

Dean cocked a smile. "Lying's a sin, you know. When I met you, you were such an up-tight little prick, I thought I'd pitch you through a wall."

"And _you_ were rebellious and stubborn. Our initial dislike was mutual."

Dean laughed softly, reaching down to gently palm Castiel's spent cock. "So much for that."

"Agreed." Castiel kissed Dean's forehead and looked down at their bodies, making a disgruntled face.

"What's the matter?" Dean said.

"I did not realize that sex would be so messy," the angel replied.

The puppy-dog expression on Cas' face sent Dean into a fit of laughter that he'd hate to describe as giggles. It was strange for him to feel so _happy_, but it seemed like the condition would be permanent, at least for the next few hours.

Dean sat up, which elicited a displeased whine from Castiel. "That's what showers are for, angel-boy. Come on, I'll introduce you to some of my own magic; motel soap and hot water." He winked, kissing Castiel briefly on the cheek as he stood and went into the bathroom to run the water.

For a moment or two, Castiel remained in the bed and watched the man move around in the tiny bathroom.

Dean Winchester was truly a loyal man, that was certain, but he did come with his peculiarities. The biggest trait that set him aside was, of course, his appetite.

As Castiel stood and followed Dean into the shower, he thought with a grin that maybe the hunter's appetite would be forced to extend beyond its usual diet of burgers, booze, and women. The angel planned on sating as much of Dean's hunger as he could, because he was likewise hungry for this man, and nothing – not Heaven, Hell, or vampires – could keep him away.

_**A/N: That's all she wrote, folks! I hope you've enjoyed my first multi-chapter Dean/Cas writing, and I do hope you'll return for more :D As always, any feedback is appreciated and encouraged! **_


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